Amongst the Dreamers
by Penny-in-the-sky
Summary: Ron and Hermione end up in the hospital wing after a day of ice skating. **Finished**
1. Announcements

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Amongst the dreamers

By Penny-in-the-sky

RATING: PG – 13 (just to be on the safe side)

SUMMARY: Ron and Hermione end up in the hospital wing after a day of ice-skating.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: I have no idea if ice skating is a well known activity in the wizarding world, but let's just pretend it isn't, or else a lot of things in this fic won't make any sense.

DISCLAIMER: All characters belong to JK Rowling. The song lyrics are from "Meltdown" by Live.

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"Like Himalayan cold winter

These jaws of Kali Yuga

It's a crazy kind of cold

A lifeless slumber in a stranglehold

And Tibet, she can't even touch this

I'd rather freeze in her forests

In the spirit of winter

And I long for the one who is

Fire, amongst the dreamers

You are in my heart"

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Part 1

~Announcements~

Hermione gave a little sigh of contentment as she cuddled up at the end of the big couch by the fireplace. She felt the warmth of the fire soak through her robes and reach all the way through to her bones as she opened the book which laid on her lap. It had been a long time since she'd had some time to herself, and now that she finally did, she intended on making the most of it.

She glanced quickly out the window while working to find a comfortable reading position, and noted that it had stopped snowing. Less than half an hour earlier snow had coloured the sky completely white, but now the vision was perfectly clear. The sun had yet to come out, but the worst part of the storm was definitely over.

It had caught them all a bit by surprise, the raging blizzard. December had passed without anything more than a soft snowfall on Christmas Day, of which the remains had disappeared almost before any of the eager boys had had time to get their scarves and mittens on. Then the weather had been fairly mild without as much as a single snowflake dropping from the clouds. Half of January had passed before, suddenly this morning, the students had woken up to find it was impossible to see anything through the windows because of the raging snowstorm outside. Hermione had come down to find the common room bustling with excited boys, and girls for that matter, eager to get outside and down to business. She'd found out that their only two classes of the day, Herbology and Care of Magical Creatures, had been cancelled due to the weather, and they were all free to do what they wanted.

Hermione looked around. The common room was as good as empty, except for a small group of first-years huddled on the floor, playing with a tiny grey-and -white kitten. The owner of the small but lively animal was a girl with big, brown hair and a pointy little nose. She seemed to be in charge of the game, gesturing back and forth to show how the kitten was to be handled. A small, sandyhaired boy in the group snickered and said something that Hermione couldn't quite make out, and the rest of the participants of the game giggled, but the big-haired girl was clearly offended. She spoke in a high-pitched voice, loud enough for Hermione to hear.

"Oh, honestly, Tim! Sometimes you act like such a child!"

Hermione couldn't help but smile to herself. Partly because the little girl was hardly grown-up enough to reprimand someone for acting like a child (especially when this person indeed _was_ a child), but mostly because the scene which had just taken place before her reminded her a great deal of another eleven-year-old girl who had stood on this very floor, four years earlier, telling her two best friends off for not making enough of an effort when it came to doing their homework. 

She felt an unwelcome lump form in her throat at the memories. Swallowing quickly, she blinked a few times to stop her eyes from stinging the way they insisted on doing every time she thought back nowadays.

It wasn't that she was unhappy. No, she was _very_ happy. And, compared to a lot of others, she was incredibly lucky. She had loving parents and wonderful friends, plus the privilege of attending the world's finest school of witchcraft and wizardry. Hermione was not at all displeased with life.

Well, maybe a little bit. She felt silly and ungrateful for admitting this, even if it was just to herself. She felt like she had no right to complain. And maybe she wasn't complaining. But at times like these, when the memories came flooding back and she for some reason felt like crying her eyes out and throwing things at the walls in frustration, she knew that there were things she wasn't happy about. It was hard to put a finger on what these things were, they were always there, lurking in the shadows of the back of her mind, but refusing to come out and reveal themselves; taunting and infuriating her to the point where she almost took offence by it. 

It was just that... well, things were different. That couldn't be denied. Of course, there was the whole "Return of the Dark Lord"-thing, but she'd had more than six months to think that through, and although life nowadays was a lot more about "constant vigilance" and watching your back than about planning which candy to buy on your next trip to Hogsmeade, the daily life at Hogwarts hadn't changed all that much.

So far. Hermione shuddered involuntarily at that thought.

The other changes that were troubling her were almost imperceptible. You had to look very, very closely to see any change at all from how things had been before. But they were there. Oh yes, they were definitely there and they were enough to make Hermione mad. Just little things, tiny little things. Like how she felt when she looked in the mirror and saw her horrible hair being bushier than usual, and wanting nothing more than to get hands on some of that amazing hair-potion right that instant. Or like seeing her two best friends gawk at a pretty girl and wonder if anybody would _ever_ look at _her_ that way. Or like having trouble looking one certain red-headed boy in the eye without blushing or having her stomach doing annoying flip-flops...

Hermione didn't get to think any further. The portrait-hole swung open, and pretty much all the inhabitants of Gryffindor House entered. They were laughing and joking, rather loudly at that, and Hermione realised that her precious alone time had ended practically before it'd started. With a sigh, she closed her book and put her feet down on the floor, but remained seated. She sat back and studied the people in the now bustling room. Seamus and Dean were loudly reliving the events of the snowball fight, enhancing the description with waving hands and theatrical facial expressions. Next to them, Parvati was helping Lavender remove snow from her hair, and every now and then they gave a giggle and sneaked a peek over at the two boys standing a few feet away.

Neville had also entered the common room, and was, to Hermione's surprise, surrounded by a group of sixth- and sevenyears who were talking excitedly to him and every once in a while gave him a friendly pat on the back. She didn't have time to give more thought to that, as she had just spotted Fred and George. They were soaking from head to toe and their faces were a glowing red. Wide, identical grins were on their faces and they were each carrying a glass-jar with a single, perfectly rounded snowball. Fred must've seen Hermione eyeing the jars suspiciously, because he addressed her.

"Don't worry, they're not for you."

Hermione gave a silent sigh of relief. She'd been hassled more than once by the Weasley brothers for choosing not to participate in the snowball fight.

"Then who are they for, if I may ask?"

Fred's grin grew, if possible, even wider.

"Malfoy," he said. "Thought we'd give him a good face-rubbing at the end of the year."

Hermione couldn't help but smile. If anyone would enjoy seeing Malfoy get that godawful smirk wiped off his face with a snowball, it was her. "And how exactly are you planning on preserving two snowballs for more than six months? I doubt this weather will hold that long."

Fred tutted at her. "Ah, Hermione, for someone so clever, your mind works awfully slow at times. It's a simple frost-preservation charm. Reckoned you'd know it."

She was about to reply when a voice right next to her claimed her attention.

"Hi, Hermione!"

She turned to see Ginny standing next to her, smiling brightly. Hermione smiled back.

"Hi, Ginny. Did you have fun?"

Ginny made what was probably supposed to be a displeased face, but Hermione could tell that it was only half-hearted. "Oh, it would've been fun unless... or rather, it _was_ fun until my darling brothers decided to gang up on me and bury me in the snow. They would probably have been rather successful with their mission if it weren't for..."

She trailed off, and Hermione raised an eyebrow. "If it weren't for what?" she asked.

Ginny shrugged. "Well, Harry came and threw a snowball in Ron's head and told him to pick on someone his own size." Clearly, Ginny did her best to say this as if it were nothing, but the slight increase of red on her cheeks was enough to give her away. Hermione smiled ever so slightly to herself as she listened to the rest of the story.

"And, of course, Ron took his advice and they began a Snowball Duel, which was the start of the Post-Blizzard Cup, which pretty much everyone took part in." At this, Ginny grinned. "And _that_, was fun."

Hermione was about to ask what had been so fun about it, but she got the answer before she could get the question out.

"Oh yes, it's always entertaining to see a bunch of Slytherin passers-by have snowballs smashed into their ugly faces."

Hermione didn't really have to turn to see who had spoken, but she did anyway, and found herself meeting Ron's glowing face. He had somehow managed to seat himself next to her on the couch without her noticing it. When she looked into his eyes, which were glittering with amusement, her stomach churned.

He was so annoyingly cute. His hair was on end and slightly damp, and his ears were bright red from being exposed to the cold. She couldn't see if he was actually smiling or not, seeing as his scarf was wrapped all the way up to his nose, but his eyes were often eloquent enough when it came to expressing emotions. Ah, yes, those eyes... Somehow she felt they constantly mocked her, with their twinkling and sparkling and ability to express and disarm. How they managed to, at the same time, express as much mischief as they did profundity was beyond her, but she knew that she would be perfectly content spending an hour or two just looking into those eyes and studying their every motion, read every feeling and every thought they confessed to her... 

Hermione cringed slightly as her thoughts started skipping down Cheesy Alley.

She managed to compose herself enough to sound perfectly casual as she spoke to him.

"Had fun, did you, Ron?"

Now he drew his chin up and pushed down the scarf, revealing the whole of his face to her. Indeed, he was smiling. Or, more like grinning madly.

"Well, that depends," he said, looking more and more like a crazy scientist.

"On what?" Hermione said, knowing he wanted her to ask.

Ron looked like he was about to give her an early birthday present. He raised his eyes to the ceiling, adopting a mock-innocent expression.

"Well, it depends on if you call a just-kicked-in-the-arse Malfoy lying facedown in a pile of snow entertaining or not."

Hermione gasped. "Oh Ron, you didn't!" she shrieked, trying to sound shocked, but not being able to contain her laughter at the mental image.

Ron was laughing too, obviously revelling in the memory. "Oh, I did. Enjoyed every second of it, too. Malfoy-on-his-knees-with-his-arse-in-the-air is right up there with Malfoy-the-bouncing-ferret."

They were sent into another fit of laughter at that memory. When they finally managed to compose themselves a little, Ron turned to her.

"Of course," he started, "The all-time favourite, the truly unbeatable will forever be Malfoy-getting-whacked-over-the-head-by-a-girl." He grinned devilishly. "Never did thank you properly for that, did I? One of the happiest moments of my life, I tell you."

Hermione felt herself blush. She knew that Ron was as good as willing to canonize her for that particular act, but she herself had always been a bit ashamed of it. It wasn't like her to lose her temper so completely (well at least not with anybody else than Ron) and she didn't intend on doing it again anytime soon.

"I heard you had a competition of some sort," she said, wishing to change the subject.

"Ah, yes," Ron said, rubbing his hands together. "I'm telling you, you should've been there. It was priceless. There were plenty of admirable performances by our fellow Gryffindors, some even outshining my ridiculing Malfoy. Hard as it may be to believe."

"Yes, who could possibly beat you when it comes to making people look stupid?" Hermione said sarcastically. It was a rhetorical question, but Ron still gave an answer.

"Neville, as a matter of fact," he said.

Hermione was truly surprised. "What did he do?" she asked.

Ron grinned. "Beat five Slytherins in Snowball Duels. You wouldn't imagine it, but he's like a sharpshooter when it comes to hauling snowballs. Didn't miss a single one." Ron was visibly impressed and didn't even try to hide his new-found respect for Neville. Hermione remembered the sixth- and sevenyears surrounding Neville earlier, and understood that he was the object of many people's admiration at the moment.

"So, what've you been up to while the rest of us were making Slytherins look foolish?" Ron asked her, leaning back against the armrest of the couch.

"Well, seeing as I had some time to myself I decided to catch up on a bit of..."

"Hermione," Ron interrupted her, "if you say 'homework', I swear I'll... well, I don't know, but it'll definitely be some ugly act of frustration."

"Oh, no need to get your panties in a twist, Ron. I wasn't doing homework."

Ron feigned a shocked face. "What?! Are you telling me you found something to do that _didn't_ involve a book?"

"I never said it didn't involve a book," Hermione answered simply.

"Oh, thank God," Ron said with a dramatic sigh, placing a hand over his heart. "For a moment there I felt the world as I know it shaking in its very foundations. So, what've you been reading?"

Hermione suddenly felt rather reluctant to tell him. It was one thing to be laughed at by Ron for referring to 1000-page spell books as light reading, but she feared that confessing to reading "Romeo and Juliet" in her spare time would open the doors to a completely new kind of mockery from him, and she wasn't sure if she was willing to go there.

She finally settled on only serving him portions of the truth. "Well, it's actually a play, written by a Muggle in the 16th century. You wouldn't have heard of it." That ought to put out his interest.

"Really? You're reading a play? What kind of play?" Damn. She should've understood he wouldn't let it drop that easily.

Hermione felt her face flush. "None that would interest you," she mumbled, trying to discreetly slip the book into her open book-bag. But Ron saw what she was doing and in a flash he had leaned over and grabbed the book from her hand. She tried to take it back, but he had already gotten up and was studying the cover.

"Romeo and Juliet," he read out loud. "Wow, seems fascinating," he added sarcastically as he began flipping through the pages. He turned to her, surprised.

"It really is a play!"

"Of course it's a play," she snapped at him. "Did you think I was lying?" She didn't even bother getting up and trying to take the book back, the damage was already done. So instead she sat back with her arms crossed, glaring at her friend.

"Hermione's reading Romeo and Juliet?"

Oh great. Hermione saw Harry come up to Ron and peer over his shoulder. Ron turned to him.

"Yeah. You know about it?"

"Sure. It's one of the most famous Muggle love stories of all time." He turned to Hermione grinning, and with a wicked glint in his eyes that she could have done without. "Thirsty for a bit of romance, were you?"

Hermione felt her face grow even redder. "For your information," she spat, "I was reading it because I wanted to study the, uh... the structure of the language, and the portrayal of the social differences between men and women in 16th century England." She felt rather pleased with this explanation, which she didn't really feel was a lie, more like... a partial untruth. But she could soon see that neither Ron nor Harry had believed her words. Harry was still grinning at her, and Ron looked up at her from the book which was open in his hands, smiling rather curiously.

"Didn't figure you for being into soppy romance stories," he said. "What happened, did the ice cold logic of the textbooks suddenly lose its beauty?"

Hermione went from embarrassed to enraged in a split second.

"Oh, honestly, Ron!" she burst out, loud enough for a few heads to be turned. "Leave it to you to simplify one of history's greatest literary works to a 'soppy romance story'! Maybe if you someday made the effort to read something besides a comic book without seeing it as a punishment of some sort, you'd be able to appreciate a real work of art! But heaven forbid that that should happen, 'cause then you wouldn't be able to be sarcastic and... and _belittling_ about everything and everybody anymore!"

An annoyed little crinkle appeared between Ron's eyebrows, and his cheeks flushed slightly. "Well, excuse _me_, if I'm not as sophisticated as you are, but if I would have to read boring plays which were written by some lovesick bloke more than 400 years ago to be considered clever and interesting, then I'd bloody well rather be looked at as stupid!"

"Oh, _please_," Hermione retorted. "You're probably just afraid that you wouldn't understand all of the words." She felt a bit mean for saying that, especially when she saw the slightly hurt look on his face, but she quickly shrugged it off, remembering that in many of their fights he hadn't hesitated to say cruel things to her.

"Maybe I wouldn't," he said, "but it's not as if they're any useful words anyway. I think I'll manage to survive in the world even if I choose to say 'Hello' when I meet people instead of something stupid like 'I humbly greet you, fellow citizen'."

"Like there's nothing in between," she said with a snort. "But then, you were always quite good with the exaggerations."

Ron opened his mouth to shoot something back at her, but Harry spoke before he got anything out.

"Come on, knock it off," he said, mildly irritated. "Let's go down to dinner." With one, final glare at Hermione, Ron threw the book on the couch and walked with Harry to the portrait hole. Hermione followed and she was joined by Ginny on her way out.

"So, what was it about this time?" Ginny asked with a small smile when they started the walk towards the Great Hall.

Hermione gave a frustrated sigh. "Oh, Ginny, I know I shouldn't be saying bad things about Ron to you, but _honestly_! Sometimes he can be such a _pain!_"

Ginny laughed. "I know," she said. "And, think of me. I have to live with him, even during the holidays."

Hermione gave a laugh as well. "I do feel sorry for you," she said.

Ginny shrugged. "Oh well. There's nothing to be done about it, seeing as we share the same parents and all."

They both laughed and continued their talk all the way to the Great Hall. When there, they seated themselves by Ron and Harry. Ron narrowed his eyes at Hermione as she sat down across from him, but he didn't say anything. Instead he looked up and down the table, frowning in confusion.

"Hey, where's the food?" he said, and Hermione was inwardly amused by the worry which lined his voice. The absence of dinner on the table was apparently enough to make him forget all about their argument.

Harry nodded towards the table where the teachers were seated.

"I think he's gonna say something first," he said. Hermione now saw that Dumbledore was standing, peering at the noisy mass of students through his glasses. He was clearly waiting them out, and indeed: one by one the students realised that there was a reason to why dinner hadn't been served yet, and fell silent. Dumbledore nodded and smiled.

"Very good," he said, his eyes glinting. "I wanted to see how long it would take for your grumbling stomachs to realise that all was not in order, and considering how relatively quickly you grew quiet, I understand you are all rather hungry."

As if on cue, a loud grumbling echoed through the hall, and all heads turned to see whose stomach was behind the resounding declaration of hunger. 

Hagrid was patting his enormous belly, rather fondly at that, and smiling apologetically.

"Haven't had a thing to eat since lunch," he excused himself.

Some scattered laughing was heard, and then everyone's attention was turned back to Dumbledore.

"I know all of you are anxious to begin eating," he said, "but I assure you this will only take a minute. I'm certain none of you have managed to avoid noticing that we have been rewarded with this beautiful, white winter weather all of a sudden. And I'm also rather certain that some of you have been making the most of it."

He gave the Gryffindor table a quick glance and an almost imperceptible smile, and Hermione was pretty sure he knew all about the highly eventful Post-Blizzard Cup.

"I too am a big fan of lovely winter weather, like the kind which is gracing us with its presence at this very moment. And I am determined to make sure that as much fun as possible is had while this blessed weather lasts. I hereby proclaim all the lessons of tomorrow, Thursday, and the day after that, Friday, cancelled. No studying is allowed in any of the houses, not by anyone-" here Hermione could have _sworn_ he looked at her. "-and you are all ordered to go out in the snow and have a terrific time."

This was met by thunderous applause and cheering from the students. Fred and George Weasley went as far as standing up to show their appreciation of the headmaster's words. But Professor McGonnagall's slightly disapproving expression did not go unnoticed by Hermione. She was then poked in the arm by Ron, and turned to him. His grin was so wide she was afraid his mouth would crack in the corners.

"Hear that?" he said, positively ecstatic. "No studying! If we study tomorrow, we'll be breaking the rules! Don't you just love that?"

She was about to respond sarcastically to his words, but Dumbledore was motioning to them to settle down. "My announcements do not end there," he said, and Hermione thought he looked very much like he was about to give them a belated Christmas present. "I have one more thing to say, and I hope it will please you as much as the last one. I had a little chat with the merpeople of the lake this morning, and I discussed with them whether or not they would mind if we let a part of the lake freeze, and they said they wouldn't. It's just a small part of course, but large enough for an ice-skating rink to be set up."

Hermione's heart skipped a beat. She clasped her hands together under her chin and turned to Ron, knowing she wore a ridiculously gleeful expression on her face. He looked at her, questioning.

"An ice-skating rink!" she said happily. He did nothing but stare back at her, confused. "Oh, right, you wouldn't know," she said and turned to Harry instead. He looked just as excited as she felt. "Ice-skating!" she said to him, and he nodded, grinning widely.

Dumbledore spoke again, and they turned to him. "Now, I know that many of you have probably never heard of ice-skating, but I trust you have Muggle-born friends who are more than willing to tell you all about this interesting and, most of all, fun activity." Hermione looked over at the Slytherins, pleased to see their annoyed faces. She was pretty certain neither of them had any Muggle-born friends who could inform them about ice-skating.

Having made all of his announcements, Dumbledore wished them all an enjoyable dinner before sitting down. Moments later, dozens of dishes filled with all sorts of delicious food appeared on the table. Ron was the first to fill his plate, but while he ate, he started questioning Hermione and Harry about this curious Muggle-activity. Hermione jumped, as always, at the chance of introducing and explaining something new to someone.

"It's actually rather simple. All you need is a pair of ice-skates, which are like boots with vertical strips of metal running under them, one for each boot. Then all you have to do is keep your balance on the skates and you can go around and around on the ice. It's rather wonderful."

Ron wrinkled his nose, obviously not impressed. "Sounds sort of stupid," he said.

"It most certainly is not!" Hermione cried, a little too loud, desperate to defend her favourite outdoor activity. "It's a lot of fun, and... and you can twirl, and it can be really beautiful, and..."

"Um, Hermione," Harry interrupted her, "I don't think that's the way to go about promoting ice-skating to Ron." He turned to his friend. "See, it's not only a girl-thing, where you twirl around on the ice looking daft. It's just as much a guy-thing."

"Really?" Ron asked, but he seemed sceptical.

"Oh, definitely," Dean Thomas said, joining in from a bit down the table. "You ever heard of ice hockey?"

"No, never," Ron said, but seemed a bit more interested, now that there were two boys campaigning for the sport. Harry and Dean then proceeded in telling Ron all about the joys of ice hockey, and he grew more and more fascinated. Hermione, who had always considered ice hockey to be no more than another one of the countless, testosterone-driven, mindless sports that male Muggles found entertaining, turned instead to Ginny, who was clearly enthralled by Hermione's poetic description of ice skating.

"Pirouettes?" she breathed. "Really?"

Hermione nodded. "Of course, it takes some practice before you can manage something like that. But there are some people, called figure-skaters, who are so good at doing pirouettes that they're allowed to compete in World Championships."

"Ooooh," Ginny said. "That must be wonderful to watch!"

"Oh, it is," Hermione said. "But the competitions I like best are the ones where they compete in couples, a man and a woman together. They do the most wonderful dance moves on the ice, all the while holding on to one another."

This was almost too much for Ginny to take. "Oh, how absolutely lovely!" she said with a sigh, and Hermione was for a moment sure she'd melt into a little puddle on the floor. 

"Oh, I can't wait 'til tomorrow!" Ginny said. "It's going to be just... just... wonderful!"

After dinner was finished, the Gryffindors went in gathered troop back to the common room. Everybody had now received a more or less detailed description of ice skating, and the room was filled with excited voices. Those who had never gone ice skating before seemed keen to try it out, and those who had were eager to try it again.

Despite the rather early hour, Hermione decided to go to bed. She was as excited as the rest of them, maybe even more, and wanted tomorrow to arrive quickly. As she started making her way up the stairs, she cast a glance over her shoulder and stopped when she caught sight of Ron and Harry talking to a group of fourthyear girls. Something about it vexed her greatly. Maybe it was the giggling girls tossing their hair about as if they were shooing flies away, and batting their eyelashes a little more than necessary. Or maybe it was the fact that both boys seemed to enjoy the attention a great deal. Ron was at the moment telling them a story involving, if she interpreted the gestures correctly, big birds and someone with spectacles. Most likely it was an account of some stupid prank he and the twins had pulled on Percy sometime.

She gave a little involuntary sigh as she started ascending the steps again. Once more that thought popped into her head: nobody would ever look at _her_ in that special way, or go out of their way to make her feel exceptional, or try to impress her by telling exaggerated versions of stories which involved themselves doing heroic deeds...

She felt herself grow increasingly frustrated. Why did it bother her that much? It wasn't as if Ron _never_ told her crazy stories to make her laugh, and he didn't _always_ snap at her or make sarcastic remarks about her ambitions when it came to schoolwork. Every now and then he did say something nice to her.

But... It was sort of included in his duties as best friend. If he wasn't nice to her sometimes, then he would be doing a pretty lousy job, and would most certainly get sacked. She had long ago admitted to herself, although reluctantly, that she wouldn't mind, no in fact she'd rather _like_ it, if he some time decided to look into her eyes and say something truly beautiful about what a wonderful person he thought she was, and maybe take her hands in his and give her one of those amazing smiles, perhaps even kiss her on the forehead, or on the temple, or on the cheek... 

In a strictly friendly manner of course, she told herself quickly, but still felt her face flush. It didn't matter that she was all alone in the dormitory and no one could hear what she was thinking. Thoughts like that were just a bit too scary.

As she crept into her warm bed, she decided to shake all disturbing thoughts of Ron Weasley off her, but it proved to be harder than she had thought, and it was long before she finally drifted off to sleep.

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A/N: End of part one. I'm aware of the fact that it was rather uneventful, but I felt I had to cut it somewhere, or I could've gone on forever.


	2. Gravity

AUTHOR'S NOTE: Thanks for all your sweet reviews! They were really encouraging, especially seeing as I wasn't sure whether to post this story or not in the first place.

Special thanks to nagini for pointing out that "Romeo and Juliet" isn't set in England (I'm so embarrassed! I mean, I _do_ know that... I have no idea where my mind was at the moment! : ) 

Anyway, this is part two (obviously) which I hope you'll enjoy as much as the first part.

DISCLAIMER: It's JK Rowling's, not mine.

Part 2

~Gravity~

Hermione felt her heart beat faster with excitement as she walked toward the shore of the lake, one skate in each hand. She could see the rink clearly. It was demarcated by a wooden fence, beautifully decorated with garlands of box and holly, and a few people were already out on the ice, skating. She felt slightly disappointed, seeing as she had been up at the crack of dawn, hoping to get some time all to herself on the ice. But these were obviously people as enthusiastic about skating as she was, so hopefully sharing the ice with them wouldn't prove to be all too bad.

Wooden benches had been set up on the shore, and she sat down on one of them, letting her skates drop to the ground. She sat there in the semi-darkness for a while, inhaling the crisp clear winter air. The sun was about to come up, and in an hour or two students would be milling out of the castle after having had breakfast. Hermione kicked off her shoes and started putting on her skates. Soon she was out on the ice, grinning widely and relishing the feeling of complete calm and freedom that she got every time she ice skated. Time passed, and she skated and twirled and flew across the ice, completely lost in herself and oblivious to the slowly growing group of students on the shore.

"Oi, Hermione!"

She snapped out of her waking dream so abruptly that she fell over and landed on her knees, much to the amusement of the spectators. She quickly got up and angrily brushed off the snow from her clothes. Then she, as gracefully as she could manage, made her way over to Ron and Harry, leaning over the wooden fence. They were grinning in a way that was enough to make her blood boil.

"What do you want?" she snapped at them, putting her hands on her hips.

Ron furrowed his brow and nodded at the rink. "I can see this is something you've done a lot in your days," he said, mock-seriously.

Hermione narrowed her eyes. "As a matter of fact, I have," she said icily. "And if the two of you hadn't startled me like that, then you would have seen so for yourself."

"Whatever you say," Ron said with an insufferable grin. She scowled at him, but then a slow, malicious smile spread on her lips.

"So..." she said, tilting her head and looking up at Ron. "Let's see you give it a try. Should prove to be interesting."

Ron paled. "I, uh... I don't think I feel like it."

Hermione raised her eyebrows, amused. Harry, who was always up for a bit of friendly teasing, turned to Ron with a grin. "Oh, come on, mate. You don't even know what it's like. Have to at least try it out."

Hermione gave a silent chuckle at the panic evident in her friend's eyes. "Harry's right, Ron," she said. "You don't know what it's like. For all you know you'll love it. Who knows, maybe we'll have a hard time getting you off this rink tonight."

"I... hrm, have a headache," Ron stated, looking right and left, as if searching for an escape route. Hermione shook her head with a smile. Excuses didn't come any lamer than that.

"Oh, come on," she said sweetly. "I'll teach you to do pirouettes."

At this Harry started laughing so hard he had to sit down to catch his breath. Ron, however, was not laughing. He raised his hand, forefinger extended and looking about ready to deliver an angry speech in defence of himself when Fred and George came up behind Hermione on the ice. Their wobbly legs and waving hands drew the attention of quite a few spectators.

"Good morning to you all," Fred said, managing to fall on his behind while attempting to stop. Harry looked amused.

"Having fun?" he asked. 

"Indeed we are, Harry," Fred answered. "Interesting activity, this."

George nodded in agreement. "Most interesting. Leave it to a Muggle to design a sport where you make it as hard for yourself to keep your balance as possible."  
He'd barely uttered the words "keep your balance" before he lost his own and fell flat on his face. The sight sent them all off into a laughing fit, even Ron. But he was immediately silenced when Fred asked him why he hadn't come out on the ice yet.

"Don't feel like it," he said gruffly and went back to sulking. This was apparently, in his brothers' eyes, unacceptable behaviour, and they started lecturing him – only half-seriously, of course – about how badly he was acting considering how much trouble the teachers had gone through to give them this. And, much to Hermione's surprise, their words seemed to do the trick. In a few minutes, both Harry and Ron had got hold of skates and were out on the ice.

*****

"Ow! Hands off, alright?"

Hermione gave an irritated sigh and drew her hand away from Ron's knee. She hadn't gotten a chance to see how big the bump which had formed there was, but considering the amount of complaining he was doing, it must be quite large.

"Fine," she said. "I was just trying to help."

"I don't need help."

She was about to say something about his performances on the ice so far being pretty contradictory to that comment, but refrained from doing so, knowing she'd just needlessly wound his already injured ego.

They were sitting on one of the benches by the ice-skating rink, taking a break for lunch. The rink was as good as full of skating students now, talking and laughing. Hagrid had come out of his cabin half an hour ago, carrying an enormous cauldron and announcing that there would soon be hot chocolate for everyone. Hermione, Ron and Harry had felt this to be a fitting time for a break, and Harry had gone off to join the long line of students waiting to be served by Hagrid, while Hermione had joined Ron on the bench. He'd fallen just minutes earlier, apparently hurting his knee, and she'd wanted to take a look at it. Something which he obviously wasn't going to let her do.

"Silly sport, this is," he muttered and she couldn't help but smile. He'd spent the last two hours stumbling around on the ice, flailing his arms about and yelling obscenities. Clearly, Ron was still unconvinced about the wonders of ice skating after his first encounter with the sport.

Harry arrived then, balancing three mugs of steaming chocolate in his hands. They sat there on the bench in silence for a while, sipping their drinks and observing the skaters. Practically every Gryffindor, Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff had come out here today and they all seemed to be enjoying themselves immensely. The absence of Slytherins was probably a contributing factor to their mirth. Not a single student from that house had set their foot anywhere near the lake during the morning. Professor Snape had made an appearance at one time, only to disappear again quickly, when asked by Hagrid if he wouldn't like to borrow a pair of skates. 

Many of the teachers were indeed out on the ice, enjoying themselves just as much as the students. Professor Dumbledore himself was even present, although not participating actively. Instead he chose to observe the skaters from a seat right next to Hagrid's hot chocolate stand, every now and then coming with an encouraging comment to a fallen student.

Ron emptied the last of his drink into his mouth and put the mug down. He got up on shaky legs.

"Right," he said. "I better be off again."

Hermione and Harry looked up at him, equally surprised.

"You mean you're getting back on the ice?" Harry asked. "By own free will?"

Ron nodded, looking determined. "I have to. Or else I'll never get this right."

Hermione's heart swelled with pride of her friend. It was so typically Ron; to, despite his number of falls and bruises, just get back in and keep on trying. "Do you want any help?" she asked.

Ron shook his head. "Thanks, but no thanks. This is between me and gravity."

With that he set out on the ice, with as wobbly legs as before. Hermione watched him take a few shaky strides before tripping and falling to his knees. She decided to ignore his earlier declaration of independence and got up to help him. When she had almost reached him, she heard a horrible chuckle, one she was all too familiar with.

"Having trouble keeping your balance, Weasley?"

Malfoy's voice made Ron look up and his face darkened. Just then, Hermione reached him and extended her hand. "Ignore him, Ron," she said in a pleading voice. Ron looked at her, clearly ready to object, but instead he remained quiet and took her hand. Gripping it tightly, he managed to pull himself up and once again stood on unsteady legs. Brushing himself off, he muttered a thanks to her, before turning to skate away from the fence and Malfoy. But he stopped as he was addressed again.

"What's the matter? Out of comebacks, are you?"

Ron slowly turned around, and Hermione feared the worst. She braced herself for the flood of foul words that was bound to come out of Ron's mouth. But to her surprise she found that instead of looking angry, he just looked annoyed.

"You know, I'd like to see you have a go at this, Malfoy," he said. "What an interesting sight that would be, wouldn't it? It would probably beat the bouncing ferret by miles."

Malfoy lost his evil grin and his face flushed with anger. "As if I'd ever be caught doing something like this," he spat. "I'd rather die than join in on your stupid Muggle-games. It's hardly something for us pure-bred wizards."

"Oh, honestly," Hermione said with a roll of her eyes. "I don't see how your parents being related is something to be proud of."

Ron burst into laughter at this, while Malfoy's face turned even redder. "What did you say???" he roared, looking about ready to explode.

Hermione adorned a mock-apologetic expression. "Oh, sorry. I thought you said 'inbred'. My mistake." Smiling sweetly at him, she took Ron's arm and they turned their backs on Malfoy, making their way further out on the ice.

Ron was still chuckling at her words minutes later. "That was priceless!" he said, in between laughs. "Absolutely priceless! You know, you sure have a way with words, Hermione."

Although she said nothing, Hermione was inwardly pleased at his approval. And at the utterly shamed look on Malfoy's ugly face when she'd said what she'd said. It always felt good to walk head-held-high out of an argument with that git.

Hermione suddenly noticed that her arm was still linked with Ron's. Instantly feeling awkward, she debated whether or not to withdraw her arm. She nervously glanced around to see if anyone was watching them from the shore, but found that they were perfectly shielded by the noisy mass of students. Having made sure that there was no Fred or George nearby, she found herself relaxing a bit. It felt nice, in a way, to stumble around on the ice, arm in arm with Ron. And, should anyone question their closeness, she could always claim herself to be a mere support for her friend, to keep him from falling. Which he definitely needed, she thought to herself.

They had reached the outskirts of the enclosure, where there weren't as many students. Not far away stood the fence which marked the end of the rink. The ice reached a bit further beyond the fence, but Dumbledore had warned them to go there, seeing as that ice hadn't been tested, and there was no way to know if it would hold a person.

Ron abruptly halted, rather unsteadily at that. Hermione let go of his arm and looked up at him, puzzled.

"What's the matter?" she asked, a sudden panic building inside her. Was it about the arm-holding? Had he disliked it?

But she found he wasn't looking displeased at all. No, his mouth was curved in a mischievous grin and his eyes sparkled mirthfully.

"Ron?" she asked. No answer.

Then, slowly, slowly, he turned his head to look at her. She raised her eyebrows, questioning. He eyed her for a moment, and while under his gaze she felt that familiar churn of her stomach. She was about to start telling him off for acting so strange, when suddenly...

"Race you to the fence."

It caught her completely off guard, as he'd clearly expected. Before she had time to gather herself enough to start moving, he'd already taken a couple of long, ungraceful strides and was several yards ahead of her.

"Ron! You hopeless prat!" she yelled and started the chase. She was pleased to find that his long legs weren't enough to outrun her; her swift skating caught up with him before long.

"Oi!" he yelled, annoyed, as the distance between them closed more and more. But it was all he could say before his left skate caught hold of the right one, sending him flying to the ground. 

"Ron!" Hermione cried and made a quick stop. Ron had glided quite some distance on his front, and now lay, arms spread and head up, on the ice. Hermione reached him and knelt by his side.

"Ron, are you alright?" she asked, placing a hand on his back and not caring how obviously concerned she sounded. He was still staring straight ahead, a look of pure shock on his face.

"Ron?" Hermione said, much more weakly this time. His silence frightened her. What if he'd taken a blow to the head? What if he'd suffered some serious damage...?

But all her worries were cast aside as the look of shock on Ron's face disappeared, and he erupted into laughter. He rolled onto his back, resting his head on the ice, and laughed for a full minute. The longer he laughed, the more irritated Hermione grew. It was so typical of him, to have her all worried like that and then just... be fine. Of course, it was _good_ that he was fine, she was _happy_ he wasn't hurt, but still... well, he didn't have to laugh like that, did he?

He noticed her irritation then, and immediately stopped laughing. Looking ashamed in a way that melted her heart, he struggled to sit up. She helped pull him up and he sat on the ice, leaning back on his arms. He carefully eyed her, sitting on her knees next to him.

"Sorry," he said. She didn't answer, wishing to punish him further for having her worried like that. Looking away, she struggled to maintain an annoyed and slightly hurt expression. It proved to be harder than she'd thought, seeing as he was so obviously studying her intently at the same time, and his eyes were leaving burn marks on her frozen cheeks.

Then suddenly he did something she wasn't the least bit prepared for. She felt a big, mitten-clad hand land on her own hands, resting in her lap. His one hand almost covered both her own. She looked at him, knowing she must look startled, and didn't feel less surprised when she saw the sincerely apologetic look on his face.

"I'm sorry," he said again, looking as if he was scared she'd start yelling at him. "I shouldn't have laughed."

She couldn't possibly look annoyed any longer. Smiling in a way she hoped wasn't _too_ forgiving, she released one of her hands from under the weight of his and swatted him playfully over the head.

"You had me worried," she said. "I thought you'd suffered some serious brain damage, the way you were acting."

He shrugged, grinning. "Guess I was in shock."

They sat there, looking at each other and smiling for a few seconds. Then Hermione became acutely aware of the fact that his hand was still in her lap and that she was enjoying it a bit too much. She hastily rose, and formally lent him her hand. He took it, looking slightly perplexed, and got to his feet. After brushing off the snow from his clothes, he patted his front, seemingly searching for something. A frown formed on his face.

"Funny..." he said and searched the ground around him.

"What?" Hermione asked.

"My wand. I haven't got it on me."

Hermione also began searching the ice. She skated some distance towards the fence, and shadowed her eyes against the sun, looking ahead. Then she caught sight of it.

A few feet outside the enclosure, on the ice, Ron's wand lay in perfect oblivion of the people searching for it.

"Ron! Over there!"

Ron looked at where she was pointing and let out a frustrated groan.

"Brilliant," he said bitterly. "Now I'll have to go tell Dumbledore about my ridiculous fall and have everybody hear about it."

"Oh, don't be silly," Hermione said and skated the final distance to the fence. "I'll get it for you."

She could almost _hear_ how surprised Ron was.

"You're not serious!"

"Do I look like I'm joking?" she asked as she laid down on her stomach and slid under the fence.

"But, Hermione, you can't go out there! The ice may not be strong enough! Dumbledore said so himself!"

"Oh, for goodness sake, Ron," she said as she stood up on the other side of the fence. "You sound like _me_."

Ron had now made his way to the fence and stood there, nervously tapping it with his hands. "Maybe we should just go tell one of the teachers," he said. But Hermione gave him one of her famous "lay off it" looks.

"There's no need to bother them. I'll be out and back with your wand in less than a minute. It's no more than fifteen feet away, see? Why would the ice be any weaker out there, when it stretches out more than a hundred feet beyond the fence?"

Ron didn't look the least bit convinced. Hermione sighed deeply, hoping it expressed her impatience. "Look, do you want your wand back or not? Because if you don't, then it's fine by me. We can just leave it there to be picked up by some bird looking to build a nest."

Ron looked over at his wand, clearly still unconvinced, but now also looking slightly worried. Hermione could tell he was thinking about the look on Mrs. Weasley's face when he told her he'd lost his wand and needed a new one (_again_).

"Alright," he said finally. "But I'm coming with you."

She didn't have time to protest before he too had slid under the fence and stood next to her. And truthfully she didn't want to protest. There was something about Ron wanting to follow her out on the thin ice, and the way in which he announced it, that made her feel cared for. And it was most certainly not an unpleasant feeling. She felt a flush spread over her face and was thankful her cheeks were already red from the cold.

"Right," Hermione said, gathering herself. "Let's just take it slowly and carefully."

They began, indeed slowly and carefully, making their way towards the wand in distress. As Hermione had pointed out earlier, it hadn't landed far away, and they reached it quickly, despite their slow pace. Hermione, being the shorter of the two, swiftly bent down and picked the wand up, handing it to Ron.

"There," she said, pleased. "No danger, see?"

The moment she uttered the words, they heard an ill-omened crackling sound and immediately looked down, alarmed.

"I'm not so sure about that," Ron said, panic evident in his voice as he watched the crack which had formed in the ice below them grow every second. Hermione's heart sped up and she swallowed hard.

"It's... it's okay..." she said, aware of how unconvincing she sounded. She searched her mind for information about what to do in a situation like this, but couldn't seem to come up with anything.

"All we have to do is... is..."

"All we have to do is get off this ruddy ice!" Ron practically yelled. He swiftly turned and started stumbling back to the fence.

"Ron! Wait! You're going to..."

But it was too late. The ice gave way below him. He was too shocked to call out, but Hermione wasn't. She screamed at the top of her lungs as she felt the ice open up underneath her as well.

The ice-cold water felt like a thousand knives stabbing every inch of her body. She was sure her heart would stop beating, but somehow it didn't. She kicked with her legs and waved her arms, struggling to get back to the surface again, but to no avail. Her drenched robes were far too heavy and continued pulling her down.

Suddenly seized by panic, she started pulling at her robes to try and remove them, so she could get back up. But she was working in an irrational manner, and it only resulted in her limbs feeling even weaker.

It felt as if her head was getting smaller by the minute; she was sure her skull would crack from the sheer cold. Ironically enough, it felt as if her lungs were burning up from the oxygen she was holding in.

Feeling utterly and completely helpless, Hermione stopped moving. _This is it_, she thought. _This is how I die. After all I've come through unharmed, this is how I end my days._ It was her one, last clear thought before everything went black.

-----------------------------------------------------------------

A/N: Hmmm... pretty dramatic, eh? I'm currently working on part three, but I don't know when it'll be finished, there's a bunch of end-of-term stuff I have to take care of at the same time. I'll try to be swift, though!

Please tell me what you thought of this part. There's something about it that bugs me, I just can't put my finger on it... maybe you can help?


	3. Snowblind

AUTHOR'S NOTE: Hi again. I know, I know… my updates aren't very frequent. Please forgive me, I happen to be slow by nature. Anyway, here's part three. Hope you'll enjoy it. And, by the way, I have no idea if Madame Pomfrey is plump, but to me it feels like she is, so let's just pretend that that's the case. 

DISCLAIMER: See previous installment.

Part 3

~Snowblind~

Hermione came back to consciousness just in time to hear the final words of an argument.

"I assure you, Mr. Weasley, it's nothing dangerous."

"You can't make me drink it."

"It's for your own good. You'd do well to just drink it now and be done with it. True, it may taste a little funny..."

"A little funny _my arse_. It bloody smells like vomit."

"Mr. Weasley! If you don't wish for me make up a reason for you to stay here 'til summer, I suggest you do as I say and _drink up!_"

A spluttering was heard, followed by the sound of someone making retching noises. Hermione stirred and opened her eyes. Everything around her was bright white. She blinked a few times and was soon able to make out her surroundings. 

She was lying in a broad, comfortable bed with sheets white enough to make her snow-blind. On each side of the bed stood a folding screen (white, of course) and next to her there was a metal trolley with all sorts of medical instruments.

__

Hospital wing, she concluded. She knew this place all too well, having ended up here quite a few times after her, Ron's and Harry's adventures.

She didn't have time to feel grateful for not being dead before Madame Pomfrey appeared at the end of her bed.

"Oh, hello dear, I see you're awake," she said with a friendly smile. "I'm just going to give you a little something to get warm."

She handed Hermione a small glass filled with a fizzy, dark-green liquid. It did, indeed, smell like vomit. But, knowing what Madame Pomfrey must've gone through with Ron, she decided to be obliging and emptied the entire contents of the glass into her mouth at once.

Had it not been for the sheer shock of tasting something so utterly horrid, she would probably have spat it all right out again. Instead she swallowed on reflex and sat panting from the mere strain of having something so disgusting travel down her throat.

The liquid set to work immediately. A tiny ball of warmth formed in her middle, and grew larger and larger, reaching through her flesh and all the way out to her skin. Astonished at obtaining such a pleasant effect from drinking something so vile, Hermione looked up at Madame Pomfrey.

"Very good, dear," the plump woman said to her warmly. "Your friend, Mr. Weasley, was not quite as co-operative," she added with a frown before disappearing.

Ron! She remembered having heard his voice earlier, although barely registering it. Where was he?

"Ron?" she called out softly.

The answer came after a moment. "Yeah?"

His voice didn't sound very distant, he seemed to be in the first bed on her left. Hearing his voice caused a warmth in her stomach that Madame Pomfrey's draught could take no credit for.

"You okay?" she asked, still rather quietly, seeing as she didn't want to disturb any other possible patients.

"Apart from being forced to drink that ruddy awful medicine, then, yeah, I'm alright."

"Honestly, Ron, it was for your own good." Hermione just couldn't resist scolding him a bit.

"Oh, really? My own good? I thought I was going to lose my insides retching, but if that's my own good, then..."

"It wouldn't have been so bad if you'd just swallowed it quickly, as Madame Pomfrey told you to. That's what _I_ did and _I_ didn't feel sick." _Well, not for long anyway,_ she added mentally.

"Suck-up," Ron muttered. Hermione rolled her eyes and shook her head. Here they were in the hospital wing, having narrowly escaped with their lives after falling through the ice, and they'd already managed to start bickering. She decided to change subjects before the argument would get any more heated.

"So who got us up, anyway?" she asked. She wasn't just steering clear of a fight, she truly wanted to know. There hadn't been anybody close by when they fell in.

"Dunno," Ron said. "But apparently we were both out cold – no pun intended – when we arrived here."

"What time is it now?"

Pause. "Six-thirty."

"That means I've been unconscious for more than five hours!"

"It also means everybody's most likely having dinner right now. Don't _we_ get anything to eat?"

Hermione found that she too was rather hungry. She hadn't eaten anything proper since breakfast (that cup of hot chocolate at lunch hardly counted as a proper meal) and suddenly she wished she was down in the Great Hall, seated at the Gryffindor table and being served tray after tray of delicious food…

"Um, Hermione?" Ron's voice came tentatively, interrupting her thoughts of food.

"Yes?"

"You alright? I mean, how are you feeling? I never asked you earlier."

Once again her stomach went warm and she squeezed her eyes shut with a smile. Gathering herself, she spoke.

"I'm fine, Ron." Then she added, without thinking: "Thanks for asking."

She mentally kicked herself. Thanks for asking?! _Thanks_ for _asking_?! She made it sound as if it were some sort of privilege to be asked how she was feeling. In a way it was, seeing as Ron didn't exactly throw words of concern about him where he walked, but need she always sound so _stupid_? She shook her head at herself, her cheeks burning.

But Ron didn't seem to have thought her words odd.

"That was pretty cold water we were in," he stated. "Madame Pomfrey said it was below zero."

Hermione detected a hint of pride in his voice as he dispensed this information.

"Really?" she said lamely, at loss of an interesting comment. But he didn't seem to mind. Instead he continued, just as proudly.

"Apparently I narrowly escaped with my toes intact. A few more minutes in the water and I would've had to buy shoes two sizes smaller than the ones I have now."

The mental image of a toe-less Ron struggling to maintain his balance sent Hermione off into giggles, which soon escalated into full-scale laughter. "Oh, so you think it's funny, do you?" he said, but he too was laughing.

"But they're alright now?" Hermione managed to get out, in between laughs. "Your toes?"

"I'm not sure. I haven't had a chance to talk to them yet."

It was a cheap joke, but it didn't matter. Hermione laughed just as hard. Tears were streaming down her face and her stomach was in cramp.

"Ow, ow, ow," she managed, clutching her middle, but still laughing. In a flash, Madame Pomfrey appeared at her bed, looking worried. When seeing the cause of her patient's declaration of pain, she frowned.

"I see you're suffering greatly, miss Granger."

"Oh yes, immensely," Hermione panted. She heard Ron erupt into laughter again from behind the folding screen.

Madame Pomfrey's slightly annoyed expression helped Hermione to compose herself. "Sorry," she said, looking ashamed. "We didn't mean to disturb the other patients."

Madame Pomfrey's face softened. "It's quite alright, miss Granger. And don't worry about disturbing the other patients. There aren't any, besides the two of you."

She turned to leave, but a thought popped into Hermione's head at that moment.

"Madame Pomfrey?"

"Yes, dear?"

Hermione glanced to her left. "Is it alright if…" She trailed off, realising that the end of that sentence wouldn't sound as casual spoken out loud as it had in her head. Embarrassed, she shifted her gaze to her hands, lying on her lap. But Madame Pomfrey saved her.

"Would you like me to remove the folding screen?" she asked kindly. Hermione nodded, unable to look her in the eye when doing so.

Less than a minute later, the screen was gone and she turned to look at Ron. He was looking more than a little comfortable in his hospital bed.

"Hello, there," he said, grinning. She smiled back but didn't have time to answer, because at that moment their first visitors arrived; namely Harry, Ginny, Fred and George. Both Hermione and Ron were delighted to see them and they started bombarding their friends with questions about what had happened after the accident. Apparently it'd been Hagrid who had pulled them out and the sight of them had been quite traumatic to the other students.

"Everybody thought you were dead," Ginny informed them. "You looked like a pair of human snowmen." Hermione cleared her throat. "I mean, snow-people," Ginny quickly corrected herself.

"Yeah, the two of you caused quite a bit of excitement," George said. "This whole 'will they make it or not?'-thing had the school buzzing for hours. I must say it spiced up my day significantly."

"Anything to keep you entertained," Ron said sarcastically. "It's nice to see you were so worried about us."

"Oh, we were worried you wouldn't make it, alright," Fred said. "When Dumbledore – all thanks to _you_, dear brother – decided on holding that half-hour speech on security and respecting rules _before_ we were allowed to have a single bite of food, I hoped and begged that you would've come through unharmed, so I could come up here and harm you a bit for myself. Now, luckily for you, food has a soothing effect on my temper."

"We _were_ really worried," Ginny said, after Ron had given Fred's arm a jab. "The teachers were so secretive, they wouldn't tell us how you were doing, and it wasn't until after his speech that Dumbledore told us you were okay."

"What I'd like to know," Harry said, "is why the two of you went outside the enclosure in the first place. I mean, if it would just have been Ron, I wouldn't have been very surprised-" at this, Ron shot him a glare "-but, Hermione, _you?_ You heard Dumbledore warn us about the thin ice, and still you went out there. I mean, there must've been a pretty good reason."

"There _was_ a good reason," Hermione said. "Ron tripped and his wand fell out of his pocket and slid outside the fence. We had to get it back for him."

"But why didn't you just summon it with _your_ wand?" Ginny asked her.

"Yeah, Hermione, why _didn't_ you just summon it?" Ron asked, frowning. Hermione marvelled at how he hadn't even realised this possibility 'til now, but chose not to say anything about it.

"I couldn't," she said. "I didn't have my wand with me."

"But why ever not?" Ginny asked. "You _always_ carry your wand. Why didn't you have it with you today?"

Hermione shrugged. "I used it yesterday while practising some of the new charms Professor Flitwick taught us last week, and I put it on my bedside table before I went to bed. I guess I just forgot to bring it with me this morning."

"You _forgot?!_" Ron exclaimed, and everybody stared at him, surprised. "You _forgot?!_ You don't just _forget_ things like that, Hermione! We could've _died!_ _Honestly!_"

She was about to snap something at him about how that was rich coming from _him_, seeing as _he_ was the reason they were here in the first place, and if he hadn't tripped and dropped his wand, they wouldn't be stuck here while everybody else was down in the Great Hall having dinner. But before she had time to begin, she saw he was grinning, somewhat sheepishly at that.

"Sorry, I was only joking," he said. "I just couldn't resist scolding you a bit, now that you _for once_ have done something even remotely wrong. Which is about bloody time, I must say."

They all laughed, including Hermione, and chatted on for a while until Madame Pomfrey showed up and announced that it was time for Ron and Hermione to eat dinner. Their friends bid them goodnight and promised to come visit first thing after breakfast tomorrow morning. When they'd left, Ron and Hermione thankfully accepted the trays carrying their meals and ate under silence, neither wishing to make a pause in their eating. Ron was first to finish and excused himself to go to the bathroom. While he was gone, Hermione took the opportunity to, in between bites, ask Madame Pomfrey how long they would have to stay in the hospital wing.

"Oh, not for very long, dear," the nurse said. "As it looks now, I have every intention of letting you leave sometime after lunch tomorrow. I'd just like to keep you overnight, to see that you didn't suffer any injuries or contract anything while in the water. But that's just standard procedure. You'll most likely join the other students again tomorrow afternoon."

Pleased with this information, Hermione thanked Madame Pomfrey for the food and sat waiting for Ron to come back. When he did, he too was glad to hear that they only had to stay one night.

"I wouldn't want to be holed up here while everyone else is out enjoying his or her day off," he said. "I intend on making the most of it."

"I wonder what they'll do with the ice-skating rink," Hermione said, more to herself than to Ron. She found herself wishing, despite the ordeal they'd been through today, that they wouldn't take the rink away. She wanted it to remain where it was, so she could go out on the ice again, go skating again, because she rarely got the chance nowadays, and now that she had, she didn't want it to be taken away from her too soon.

"My guess is that, after what happened to us, they'll have Hagrid go at it with a giant sledge hammer and then together curse the day they allowed a little breeze of fun and freedom to blow its way into the corridors of Hogwart's."

"Ron!"

"Don't give me that look, I was only joking."

They fell into silence, both overcome by weariness, and after a while Madame Pomfrey came to tell them that it was about time they got some sleep, considering what a rough day they'd had. Hermione was about to ask if their five-hour-unconsciousness didn't count as sleep, but decided against it as she felt that such a question would've sounded rather rude, even coming from her. So they obediently crept under the blankets and bid each other, as well as Madame Pomfrey, goodnight. A few moments later the lights were turned out and the room was shrouded in darkness.

Hermione was surprised to find that her eyelids felt incredibly heavy, and only had time to briefly marvel at the fact that she indeed was tired despite her many hours of unconsciousness before she fell into a sleep deeper than the one she'd been in during the afternoon. 

------------------------------

A/N: Hmmm… I feel like an apology is in order. First it takes me an absolute eternity to update, then I reward those of you who have waited patiently for the continuation with such an eventless chapter!! I'm really sorry, but I'll try to be more exciting next time. Anyway, thanks to those of you who have taken time to read and review. I really appreciate it!!


	4. Darkness

AUTHOR'S NOTE: Yes, yes, it's true. You can believe it or not, but this _is_ actually part 4 of "Amongst the Dreamers", and I know some of you, if you even remember this story, must be going "No! It couldn't be!", but it is, and yes, I _have _been working on it almost a year. Well, not constantly, obviously, but every now and then I've sat down and had a go at it, and now _finally _it's finished. You might wonder why it's taken so long. The thing is, I recently graduated, and my senior year was positively insane, there was so much to do and so little time to do it in (something which I'm sure a lot of people are familiar with). And frankly, there weren't many opportunities for me to go "Ah, I think I'll just sit down and write, for the sheer fun of it", seeing as there were countless assignments and tests and who knows what to finish before I could do something like that. But now I'm done with school, for the time being anyway, and hopefully I'll have some time in the near future to sit down and finish some stories (cause there are quite a few to be finished). Plus, I've now read OotP and new ideas are popping into my head every day, so I hope I'll have some OotP fics up soon. Btw, for those of you who don't know, I started on this fic more than a year ago, so it's not OotP-compatible. Just so you know.

Wow. Long statement. But I felt like I owed you an explanation to the delay. Anyway, I hope there's still someone out there who wants to read the continuation of this story, and who'll enjoy it.

Finally, I should say that there's a fluff warning on this chapter. Quite a big one. But we like fluff, don't we? :)  
DISCLAIMER: JK Rowling owns everything. Well, not _every_thing, but everything HP-related. Oh, you know the deal.

Part 4

~Darkness~

It was a strange, rasping noise that woke Hermione up in the middle of the night. At first she couldn't tell where it came from, but as she strained her ears she heard it was coming from somewhere to her left.

_Ron, _she thought to herself. _Ron's awake._

But as she turned her head to see what he was doing, she found that there was no movement in his bed. In fact, the bed seemed to be empty. Frowning, she decided on investigating the curious noise, as well as Ron's absence, and slowly got out of bed, careful not to make any sound of her own. She shivered slightly, as her feet were bare and there was a slight draught by the floor.

Tip-toeing, she made her way past the folding screen, which shone just as white in the darkness of the night as it had during the day. For a while she stood perfectly still, adjusting her eyes to the dark. When this was done, she surveyed her surroundings. There was no movement of any kind in the room – it was all peace and quiet, except for that soft, rasping sound. She knitted her brows, struggling to make out where it was coming from. The source of the sound seemed to be somewhere over by the windows. 

Slowly, slowly, and ever so carefully, she made her way closer to the large windows. The curtains to all of them were drawn together, so it was impossible for her to know behind which set of curtains Ron was sitting.

But when she'd advanced a further ten feet, it was easy to determine that the sound was coming from behind the curtains of the window just on her left, and she quickly tip-toed up to it. She was about to draw the curtains aside, with the intention of giving Ron a good scare, but just as she raised her hand to do so, a sudden thought struck her.

What if it wasn't Ron hiding behind the curtains? What if it was somebody else? Somebody who'd snuck in here, lured Ron out of the room, and now sat waiting for her behind the curtains?

She was aware of how paranoid a thought it was, but these were paranoid times. Anything could happen, at any time, and everyone knew that. Even if the prospect of a midnight intruder in the hospital wing was utterly unlikely, nobody would be very surprised if it happened. They had all learned to expect the unexpected.

So even if there was little possibility that the person behind the curtains was anybody but Ron, Hermione took a few steps back, just to be on the safe side. Then she softly whispered "Ron?" to the closed curtains, and waited for a response.

It came almost immediately, although not in words. Ron's head appeared in the gap between the curtains, and he looked rather furtive.

"Hermione!" he hissed. "What are you doing out of bed?"

She crossed her arms and raised an eyebrow at him. "I could ask you the same thing."

Ron suddenly looked rather uncomfortable. Glancing first left, then right, he drew his head back behind the curtains again. A shuffling sound was heard before his face reappeared. "I couldn't sleep," he said. "How about you?"

"Something woke me up. Ron, what were you doing?"

"Doing?" Ron asked, trying to appear puzzled, but even in the dark Hermione could make out a flush creeping up his cheeks.

"Yes. I heard a strange, sort of rasping sound, and it came from behind those curtains. It _must _have been you who caused it."

"I wasn't doing anything," Ron said and shrugged, but he looked increasingly flustered. "Maybe it was just a branch against the window or something."

"No, I don't think so. It didn't sound anything like that. It was rather soft, and flowing. A bit like… No, a _lot_ like…" Hermione trailed off, realisation dawning on her. "Ron, you were writing, weren't you?"

Ron's face flushed even darker in the dusky room. "No, I wasn't."

"Yes, you were! Now I know why the sound was so familiar! It came from your quill against the paper, didn't it?"

Ron looked like he was about to object again, but then decided against it. He sighed and looked away. "Yes."

"What were you writing?"

Ron narrowed his eyes at her. "Why should I have to tell you? Maybe it was something secret."

Hermione snorted. "Oh, please. What would that be? A _diary_?" She gave a small laugh at the thought of Ron owning a diary, then caught herself. "It wasn't a diary, was it?" she asked cautiously, her stomach turning at the thought of what Ron could be writing in such a book.

"Of course it wasn't a diary," Ron snapped, clearly offended, and Hermione breathed a silent sigh of relief. "As if I'd be caught dead owning one of those."

"Then what was it?" Hermione asked, seized again by curiosity.

Ron sighed. There was a pause in which Hermione was positive that she'd irritated him to the point where he'd get out from behind the curtains, then stomp back to bed. But instead he looked down and mumbled something inaudible.

"Pardon?" Hermione asked, frowning.

Ron looked to his side. "I said I was writing a letter," he said irritably.

"A letter? To whom?"

Ron's facial expression showed he was clearly not enjoying having to share this piece of information. "To my parents. Alright? I was writing a letter to my parents."

Hermione was truly puzzled. "In the middle of the night? What for?"

Ron didn't answer. Instead he sighed and held one of the curtains open, revealing the wide window-seat on which he was sitting. "Come on," he said, motioning for her to join him. Hermione was reluctant for a moment, wondering what this was all about, but then decided that she really wanted to hear what he had to say, and made her way over to the window. She climbed in and sat opposite Ron, with her back against the wall. Drawing up her knees, she tucked her feet in under the hem of her nightgown, enjoying the exchange of cold stone-floor under her feet for the soft velvet cover of the window-seat. She glanced at Ron and found he was staring out the window with a distant look in his eyes. Beside him lay a rolled up piece of parchment and a quill.

She took this opportunity to study him for a while. He looked so serious, and she wasn't used to seeing him like this; the darkness making his hair look more auburn than red, and giving his eyes an intensity which for some reason made her stomach flutter. He sat just like her, with his knees drawn up and his arms wrapped around them.

He turned to look at her then, and Hermione's face flushed as their eyes met. He knew she'd been staring at him. She turned her gaze downward, trying to look unaffected, but failing to do so, as she could feel Ron's eyes on her. Turning her head, she looked out the window.

"The view's quite extraordinary up here," she commented, desperate to end her own awkwardness.

Ron didn't answer directly. She heard him take a deep breath in which she pictured him leaning his head back against the wall as he looked out as well. "Yeah, brilliant," he finally said.

They sat in silence, gazing out over the grounds of Hogwart's. The moon was new and provided little light; reducing the trees at the edge of the Forbidden Forest to dark shapes and menacing shadows, but in the area that was lit by the schoolground lanterns, they could make out both the pumpkin patch by Hagrid's hut and the stands by the Quidditch pitch, as well as scattered shrubberies and flower beds. It all looked so small from this far up, so insignificant, something that made Hermione feel strangely at ease.

"Does the night ever scare you?"

Ron's question startled Hermione, who'd grown rather used to the silence. She turned to look at him, and found he was sitting just as she'd imagined, with his head leaned back and his gaze fixed on something outside the window. She found she didn't know what to say. It was such an unexpected question, especially coming from Ron, and she didn't know how to answer.

"If the night scares me?" she repeated, frowning.

He nodded. "Nowadays. Do you ever get scared at night, considering… well, you know."

Hermione knew. She shivered slightly in her nightgown and hugged her knees even closer to her. "Sometimes," she said, resting her chin on her knees. "When I think about it."

Ron nodded, then turned to look at her, and his eyes were so deep a shade of blue that Hermione's heart twitched. "It seems darker, don't you think? _Literally _darker. I mean, have the nights always been this dark?"

Hermione looked back at him, giving a small smile. "I think so, Ron. We've just never noticed it before."

He shrugged. "I guess."

"How about you?" Hermione asked. "Does it scare you?"

Ron pursed his lips and for a moment it looked as if he was about to go off on an ego-defending tirade about how men weren't frightened by the dark, but then his features softened and he looked down at his feet. "Sometimes," he admitted quietly, and this -- for Ron -- very private confession made Hermione's stomach go warm.

He sighed deeply, picked up the quill lying by his side and started fidgeting with it. "It's just… I don't like how the night makes me all paranoid. I don't like all this… worrying. About everything and everyone. And I don't like how I can't, you know… keep an eye on everyone all the time. I hate how I don't always know what you're all doing."

This statement sent yet another ball of heat into Hermione's stomach. 

He worried about her. 

Sure, his words indicated that there were a large number of people he worried about, but the important thing was that she was one of them. Otherwise he wouldn't have put it like that.

"I know what you mean," she said. "I worry too."

He looked up at her. "You do?"

She nodded, confused by the slightly puzzled look on his face. "Of course I do. Why wouldn't I?"

He shrugged. "Well, you seem so… I don't know… _collected _all the time. I guess I just assumed you wouldn't…"

"Well, I do," Hermione interrupted. "A lot. Especially about…"

She trailed off and turned to gaze out the window. She could feel Ron's eyes on her. "About what?" he asked.

She took a deep breath before speaking.

"I hate how I don't know how my parents are. I hate how something could happen to them, and they wouldn't see it coming, because they don't…" Here she had to stop. She swallowed hard, fighting to get rid of the lump that had formed in her throat, and squeezed her eyes shut.

"I know how you feel," she heard Ron say. "I worry about my parents too. I mean, it's not like they're not aware of the way things are, and I could hardly do much to keep them out of harm's way if I was with them, but it still _kills _me that I can't see how they're doing, if they're alright. That's why I try to write them as often as I can, since I know that mum will answer within a split second, and I just _have_ to make sure…"

He trailed off. Hermione opened her eyes and turned to look at him. His head was tilted sideways and his gaze rested on his knees. On his face was a look of such uncharacteristic resignation that Hermione's heart ached. Ron wasn't supposed to be like this. He wasn't meant to look unhappy or defeated or even remotely subdued; he was meant for pranks and laughter and mischievous grins, and witty comments and a fiery temper and flushed cheeks caused by frustration or indignation or something that had made him adorably bashful. And now here he sat across from her, looking absolutely helpless and as far from the regular Ron as she'd ever seen him. The sight made Hermione want to forget all about awkwardness and just reach out and touch him. Comfort him. She was sure he needed it.

But conventions and unwritten rules aren't easily discarded, and instead Hermione leaned the side of her forehead against the window and closed her eyes. The glass felt cool and somewhat soothing against her skin.

"Oh, Ron," she said with a sigh. "Is this the future? Is this how it's going to be? Us worrying about everything and everyone, and looking over our shoulders all the time?"

Ron snorted. "Not if I can help it. Even if it doesn't seem like it, I have dreams, and I'll be damned if I'll let _him _ruin it all for me."

Hermione looked at him, a bit surprised at the fierce tone of his voice.

"Don't look at me like that," Ron said.

"Like what?"

"Like the prospect of me having any sort of hope or dream of the future is a bloody joke."

"I wasn't! I just –"

"Because I do, you know."

"I'm sure you do, I –"

"And I know it must seem like all I ever do is sit back and won't be bothered with anything, but I think about the future, even if I don't make up charts and graphs and organise everything into oblivion."

"Are you saying _I _do?" Hermione demanded, suddenly annoyed.

"I'm not naming any names," Ron replied in an infuriatingly haughty manner.

"Look," Hermione said heatedly, struggling to keep her voice down. "I don't know what your problem is all of a sudden, but I didn't say a _thing _about you having dreams or plans for the future, not one thing, so there's no need for you to get all defensive and insult me or make fun of my studying habits."

She expected him to glare back at her, but instead he gave her a slightly sheepish look. "Sorry," he mumbled. "I don't know where it came from. I'm just…" He sighed deeply and leaned his head back, not finishing the sentence. Hermione eyed him for a moment, before speaking.

"So what are they?" she asked quietly.

Ron looked at her, puzzled. "What?"

Hermione cleared her throat, which had suddenly gone tight. "Your… your dreams. What are they?"

"Oh." Ron cleared his throat as well, clearly flustered. "I… well, they're… I'm not sure… I guess… I mean, they're not…" He trailed off, obviously struggling to form a complete sentence. Hermione decided to help him out.

"Do you know what you want to do for a living?" she asked.

It seemed to help him a little, this specified question. He shrugged before speaking. "Well, you know how it is, there's always something you think you'd really fancy doing, but it's so far-fetched and unlikely that you might as well give it up right away." She saw his cheeks flush a little and he looked away.

"But you have an idea? I mean, even if it's farfetched, it isn't impossible. If you put your mind to it and really _dedicate _yourself…" She trailed off, hoping she'd sounded encouraging.

Ron gave her an amused little smile. "You know, with that attitude, you could be put in charge of Career's Advice. McGonagall wouldn't stand a chance."

Hermione gave him a Look, which efficiently silenced him. "I'm serious," she said. "No dream or plan is stupid. Now tell me what it is." She hoped she succeeded in hiding the curiosity that had bubbled up inside her.

Ron sighed. "Fine," he muttered. "If it'll get you off my case…" He turned his gaze out the window once more and his breath caused a patch of steam to appear on the glass. "I've always thought it'd be kind of cool to…" He paused to clear his throat, then actually managed to meet her eyes with his own, and the look he gave her was equally embarrassed and defiant. "I'd like to be an Auror."

"Oh!" Hermione felt like hugging him. He was adorable! Had he really thought she'd laugh at him for _that? _"Ron, that sounds… I mean that's…" She felt her face flush. "It's wonderful! It's a wonderful idea!"

But Ron looked mortified. "I knew you'd think it was stupid!" he said, and his face flushed darker. "And it is, it's a stupid idea, and it'll never work, I don't…"

"Of _course _it'll work!" Hermione said hurriedly, desperate to end his embarrassment. "I think you'd make an excellent Auror!" He didn't look convinced, so she added a forceful, "Honestly, I _do!_"

Ron visibly relaxed a little, and gave her a slightly pleased grin. "Well," he said. "I might just go for it, then."

There was a small pause, then Ron took a deep breath and asked, "How about you? Do you have any plans?"

Hermione was surprised to find that her mind went completely blank at his question. Whenever somebody had asked her this at previous times, she'd always been able to give a thorough answer, stating the various careers she had taken into consideration. But now, even though these career options were still in her mind, they didn't seem the least bit appealing anymore.

"Well?" Ron demanded when she hadn't yet answered.

She frowned, still baffled by her own sudden change of heart. "I don't know," she said truthfully. "I really don't know."

Ron looked at her, surprised. "You don't _know?_" he asked, incredulous. "You mean you haven't yet made a detailed plan of the coming five years? Honestly Hermione, isn't time running out?"

She narrowed her eyes at him, but couldn't bear to be annoyed, especially not when his eyes glittered the way they did whenever he mocked her.

"Seriously," he said, and all traces of sarcasm were gone from his voice. "How come you don't know? I mean, you could be anything. You've got a world of opportunities ahead of you. You're not like the rest of us, I mean you're not _mediocre. _You're brilliant, and you could do _anything, _Hermione."  
And he fixed her with such an intense gaze that she truly believed he meant it, which caused her heart to beat twice as fast as it normally did. "I don't know about that," she said, trying hard not to show how his words had affected her. "And you are _not _mediocre, Ron."

He smiled slightly and shrugged. "Well, maybe I wouldn't be if I really _applied _myself, eh?"

Her heart broke at his tone. He sounded as if he really didn't think he was the least bit special, and Hermione wanted to tell him how perfectly wrong he was, how much he meant to her, how she couldn't quite fathom that there were people who actually couldn't see his brilliance, how she sometimes had a hard time being around him just because he was so utterly wonderful, how he provoked and agitated her like no other, yet still managed to be the one who, with a simple glance or smile, could restore her inner calm… All this she wanted to tell him, but she couldn't possibly find the words. So she gave another answer, which she hoped expressed at least some of her feelings.

"You _do_ apply yourself, Ron," she said quietly. "Maybe not always when it comes to school, but there are other things… More important things."

He raised an eyebrow at her. "There are things more important than school?" he asked, mock-seriously.

"Of course there are," she replied, and he didn't pursue the matter further.

They sat in silence for a while, gazing out the window. Hermione noted how at ease she was, how completely natural it felt, sitting here with Ron and sharing her thoughts and feelings. She supposed that the dark was a contributing factor to their sudden sincerity – it didn't feel half as scary speaking your mind when you were shielded by the dark of night. Quite interesting, really, considering how they'd not so long ago concluded that the night's darkness could be rather unsettling.

"You know what," Ron said suddenly, and Hermione turned to look at him.

"What?"

"If you want to do something meaningful, you could be an Auror, too! I mean, wouldn't that be cool?" He grinned, answering his own question. "You, me and Harry, we could all be Aurors. Then we'd get to work together!" 

Hermione raised an eyebrow at him, but didn't say anything.

"Seriously," Ron continued, "It's not a bad idea. I mean, we've had quite a lot of practise when it comes to meeting the Dark Arts, and we work really well as a team. Who wouldn't want to hire us?"

Hermione couldn't help but smile at his enthusiasm. "It's a possibility," she said, not wanting to put him down. And it _did _sound quite appealing. She didn't know if she'd make a good Auror, though, but as Ron had pointed out, they'd come through a lot together, and their friendship hadn't failed yet.

When Hermione glanced out the window again, she was surprised to see a faint red line along the horizon. It was nearly dawn – how long had they sat here? She looked at Ron and saw that he had noticed, too. "Maybe we should get back to bed," he said. "Before Pomfrey comes out and thinks we've run off or something."  
Hermione nodded. "We wouldn't want that to happen." But she felt oddly reluctant to leave her place on the window seat. Soon it would be a new day, and she had a feeling that in the light of day she wouldn't be able to talk like this with Ron. At least not for quite a while. And she hardly thought she'd get to talk to him after dark anytime soon. Her face flushed at the unintended implications of this thought, and before she could hesitate, she swung her legs down from the window seat, pushed the curtains aside and stood up on the floor. She heard a shuffling as Ron did the same. When the curtains swung back, it took some time for her eyes to adjust to the thicker darkness of the hospital wing. She looked over at Ron, who was standing squinting into the dark, clearly trying to make out his surroundings.

"So," she whispered, suddenly at a loss of what to say.

Ron looked at her, his features hard to make out in the dim room. "So," he echoed.

Hermione felt a curious, tugging sensation in her gut. She thought again about how unusual these circumstances were, and how long it could be before she would be alone with Ron again. There was something about this night that made her feel like she ought to _seize _it, and not let the opportunity – whatever it was – slip away. Overcome by determination, mixed with anticipation and fear, she took one step closer to Ron, looking up at his face. He was no more than a foot away now, and his features were suddenly clearer. He furrowed his brow as he looked down at her.

"You okay?" he asked, and she realised her expression must be rather odd. And she _felt _odd, too. Like her stomach was full of butterflies and her skin was being tickled by a hundred pixies. She looked into Ron's deep blue eyes, scared to break eye contact as she feared that when she would, she might never be able to look him in the eye again.

"Hermione?" Ron's voice sounded oddly constrained. Maybe he was as acutely aware of their close proximity as she was. Because they were close now. And she could almost _feel _him, how warm he was.

She didn't know what made her do what she did then. Maybe it was this sudden premonition of what it would feel like to touch him; maybe it was her mixed fear of and fascination with the darkness of these hours; or maybe it was simply this confusing and unidentifiable mass of _feelings_ she'd been harbouring for so long she couldn't even remember when she'd first experienced them. Whatever it was, it was so powerful and frustrating and ready to burst inside her that she had to let a fraction of it out. So she reached out a trembling hand and, ever so lightly, touched her fingertips to Ron's chest. He followed her movement with wide eyes, but didn't say anything. And he remained silent even as she placed her full hand on his chest.

He was indeed warm. More so than she'd expected. And she could feel his heart beat rather rapidly against his ribcage. Swallowing hard, but still not breaking eye contact, she took another tiny step closer to him, and now there were mere inches between them.

He was so tall. The top of her head was just level with his shoulder – she could feel his hot breath against her forehead – and she felt like burrowing her face into his chest and breathing him in. This was definitely the closest they'd ever been and she couldn't for the world understand how she'd been able to go so long without wanting to know what this closeness felt like. It made her want to laugh and cry at the same time, and feel fearful that she might explode with emotion if she maintained the contact. But at the same time she wouldn't dream of breaking it. She realised now that this was what she'd wanted for so long – this was her, and Ron, and it all made such perfect sense that she could no longer bear even the insignificant distance that was now between them.

With yet another tiny step forward she closed the distance between them and leaned her forehead against him, closing her eyes. Her arms moved around his middle and she drew herself even closer to him, only dimly aware of what a crazy thing this actually was to do.

At first, Ron did nothing, and for a fraction of a second Hermione was terrified that he was disgusted by her behaviour and wanted nothing more than to get away from her. But the thought barely had time to enter her mind before she felt a large, warm hand land between her shoulder blades, gently pressing at her back. Her heart sped up at this touch initiated by Ron himself, and she burrowed her face into his chest, as she'd thought about doing only minutes ago. Although, it felt like ages since she'd stood there with her fingertips against his chest. Because now she was actually being _held _by him, and no other previous contact she'd had with him could compete with this.

She drew in a sharp breath as she felt him place his other hand on her head, and then clumsily yet brilliantly he began stroking her hair in a way that sent wonderful little tingles down her spine.

It was almost too much, this. Almost too astounding. And he was too warm, too radiant, too important; it almost frightened her that she could feel this much all at once. But she wouldn't have exchanged it for anything. And even if it felt as though she'd burst from all this emotion, it wasn't nearly enough. Thinking this, she ever so slowly leaned her head back and gave him a soft kiss on his chin. It was all she could reach, and this fact almost made her laugh. But any laughter that might have felt like escaping her mouth was efficiently silenced as Ron bowed his head and softly touched his lips to her cheek. She scarcely managed to avoid gasping, but only by grabbing a handful of his nightshirt behind his back. She felt the muscles in his back tense slightly at this, and his lips left her cheek. But his face was still so close to hers that she could feel his breath on her skin. And this notion made her turn her head slightly, draw in a deep breath and then finally press her mouth against his.

It felt as though she wouldn't be able to remain standing, and had Ron not slightly increased the pressure of his hand against her back, she might actually have dropped to the floor. Because this was just too, too much. She was standing here, pressed against Ron, her hands on his back, her lips against his, and she'd never done something like this before, she'd never actually kissed someone before, but she just _knew _that this was what it was supposed to feel like. She knew it, because every cell in her body was currently buzzing and cheering and assuring her that that was the case.

She pushed herself up on tiptoe to get even closer to him, and as she did so, she felt his arms go around her, drawing her to him. The kiss deepened, and though it was obvious that Ron was as unsure of what to do as she was, it couldn't have been more wonderful. She opened her mouth slightly, and he did the same, allowing her to taste him and breathe him in.

They stood like that, in each other's arms, for quite a long time; gently and carefully exploring each other, and Hermione gradually realised that there _were_ actually ways in which to express oneself better than in writing. She almost blushed at this, but considering the present circumstances, she figured that a thought like that could hardly count as embarrassing anymore.

It was a soft shuffling sound that caused them to let go of each other and jump apart. And that was when they heard Madam Pomfrey talking in a hushed voice with someone outside the door.

"…were quite alright when I left them, I assure you, and a full night's sleep ought to have done the trick, but if you want to see for yourself…"

"I think that might be best," came Professor McGonagall's voice.

Hermione looked at Ron in terror, and he stared back at her, equally alarmed. Professor McGonagall was on her way into _this very room_, and they were… Oh goodness. Hermione stared frantically around her, looking for an escape route. To her surprise, it was Ron who proved to think rationally by firmly taking her by the arm and leading her over to her bed. She scrambled into it and got under the covers. Ron was already getting into his bed a few feet away. Only then did Hermione remember something she'd forgotten earlier.

"Ron!" she hissed. He looked over at her, questioning.

"What?"

"Your letter! It's still on the window seat!"

Ron reacted immediately, practically diving out of bed. She heard him run over to the window, shuffle around, then run back and dive under the covers, and he was just on time, because seconds later the handle of the door was pushed down and the door glided open.

Hermione let her eyelids drop and tried to get her breathing even, which was hard, considering how she'd, minutes ago, stood in Ron's arms with her lips against his, and now she was lying in bed, hardly aware of how she'd got there, and Professor McGonagall was currently on her way over to check on her, and her heart was hammering wildly against her ribs, and she could hardly get her head around what had happened and what was happening right now.

"Miss Granger seems alright."

It was all Hermione could do not to jump. The Professor's voice was low, and she _had _been expecting it, but it was still quite a shock to hear it right by her bed. She heard the sound of soft footsteps make their way around her bed to Ron.

"Mr Weasley too. Well, Poppy, it looks as if everything is in order here. Let me know when they're ready to leave."

"Yes, Minerva."

Footsteps headed for the door, which was opened and moments later closed again.

Hermione breathed a sigh of relief. She would've wanted to turn to Ron and see him grin back at her, but she didn't dare. Partly because Madam Pomfrey was still in the room, as it was now a new day and she was on duty, but also because Hermione couldn't yet fathom that she had actually _kissed Ron, _she had _kissed _him, and he had kissed her back, and it was too unbelievable for her to actually dare believe it. So she didn't want to face him quite yet. She just wanted to lie here for a while and process it, try to understand it. And as awkward as the coming day was bound to be, she couldn't seem to care right now. She would deal with that when it came.

For the time being, she would just lie here and think.

She heard a shuffling sound from the bed next to her, and couldn't help but smile. She wondered how Ron was feeling right now, what his thoughts were. And desperate as she was to find out, she wouldn't dream of turning around and asking him. No, these few moments were her own. And she would treasure them. Take time to arrange the memories and make sure they wouldn't escape her. And it didn't really matter if she didn't know what Ron was feeling, because she knew what _she _was feeling, and right now that was enough.

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A/N: Well, how about that? Fluffy sunshine, eh? Hope you enjoyed it.

A couple of quick OotP-related notes: Firstly, I wrote most of this chapter after I'd read the book, so you might've noticed a few things that wouldn't have been there if I hadn't read the book: for example, Ron mentioned Career's Advice, which I wouldn't have known of otherwise. Secondly, in OotP, the students go ice skating on the lake in the winter, which sort of doesn't work with this fic, seeing as I thought of ice skating as something Muggle-related that non-Muggles wouldn't know of. (And I still think that would've been more likely, seeing as Ron was so amused by downhill skiing, which was apparently unknown to the wizarding community.) Anyway, I hope you've been able to enjoy this story even with this in mind. Thanks for reading!


	5. Silence

A/N: Here we go – the final part. Although, in my eyes it doesn't really qualify as a chapter of its own, it's more like an epilogue of sorts, just a little tying-it-all-up kind of thing. Anyway, I hope you like it!

DISCLAIMER: See previous instalments.

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Part 5

~Silence~

The whole world was spinning. Everything around her was a blur of beautiful colours and fuzzy shapes, and she knew that she would soon pay for this vision with severe dizziness, but she felt it was worth it, seeing as this was the freest she'd felt in ages. Her heart was soaring and her mind was in such a state of elation that she didn't know if she'd ever be able to bring it back to reality.

When she stopped, dizziness did indeed overcome her, and to avoid losing her balance she sat down right on the ice, breathing heavily and smiling to herself as her mind gradually stopped spinning.

She'd almost shrieked with happiness when she'd stepped out of the castle today and seen that they'd left the ice where it was. Ignoring Professor McGonagall's "Now, Miss Granger, I _really_ do think you ought to stay inside today", she'd quickly run to fetch her skates and dress warmly, before running back out towards the lake. She'd been pleased to see that there hadn't been any other students there at the time, as they'd all skated during the morning and early afternoon, and she hadn't been allowed to leave the hospital wing 'til three o'clock.

Hagrid had come out to check on her a number of times, most likely on the orders of Professor McGonagall. Hermione knew that the teachers all considered it rather foolish of her to rush back out to the skating rink after what had happened yesterday, and maybe it _was _foolish, but she just couldn't resist. For this feeling, she would risk anything.

She breathed in the crisp winter air, closing her eyes. This was a perfect moment. Absolutely perfect. She couldn't remember the last time she'd felt this calm, this peaceful, and she didn't want it to end. But she knew it had to.

"Hey, Hermione!"

Hermione sighed, realising that her moment to herself was over. She turned her gaze to the shore, where Harry was waving at her, grinning. Her heart skipped a beat as she caught sight of Ron, standing next to Harry. He had his hands in his pockets and his shoulders drawn up as he stood there, completely silent for once. But he was wearing a barely-there smile and eyeing her in a way that was eloquent enough to make her spine tingle and her stomach flutter.

"You're not stuck, are you?" Harry said, grinning even wider. "'Cause dinner's ready, and I wouldn't want to put it off today too, just because you've had another ice-related _incident_."

Hermione made a face at him before getting up as gracefully as she possibly could. She didn't dare look at Ron, but was absolutely certain he was watching her as she slowly made her way towards the shore. She'd barely talked to him today, but still it felt as if quite a lot had been said, although not in words. Like when his hand had brushed against hers when they left the hospital wing, and something very much like an electrical current had shot up her arm. And when he'd glanced at her while telling Harry of their "highly uneventful" night, offering her a barely perceptible smile. And right now, when – even without looking at him – she could tell he was studying her intently, making her knees feel like they weren't really up to carrying her.

She reached the shore, grateful that she'd managed to avoid tripping this time. Looking up, she found that Harry and Ron had moved to the edge of the ice. One of Ron's hands was still in his pocket, but the other was extended towards her, pale and gloveless. Swallowing hard, she grabbed it with her own mitten-clad hand and felt his fingers enclose it with a firm grip. Her heart hammered as he guided her over to the bench, where she sat down before releasing his hand, mumbling a barely audible "Thank you". She proceeded with untying her skates, not daring to look at Harry. Had he noticed anything? When she finally mustered up the courage to glance at him, he seemed to be working hard to suppress a smirk as he looked at Ron. Hermione felt her face go hot. It felt rather odd, not being able to share this with Harry, not being able to tell him. Granted, he already seemed to have some sort of notion of what was going on, but they hadn't actually _told _him anything. And when they finally did, which they were bound to do sometime, it was going to be rather difficult.

When her skates were off and her boots were on, she stood up.

"Done," she stated.

"About bloody time," Ron muttered into his scarf, feigning annoyance, and the sound of his voice made Hermione shiver pleasantly. He looked at her, then held her gaze for a moment or two before looking down. Hermione was sure she saw his ears turn slightly redder, and she couldn't help but smile to herself.

The silence was broken by an incoherent grunt, and Hermione turned to look at Harry, who was looking from her to Ron with unmistakable amusement. This time there was no doubt about the fact that he had picked something up.

"Let's just go already," he said, sounding as if he was working hard not to laugh. "I'm starving."

And with that they started making their way up towards the castle entrance, Hermione walking between the two boys, her heart hammering and her head singing. It didn't matter if it was going to be difficult, it didn't matter how many people she would have to be embarrassed in front of; this was something she wanted, and when it was now _finally_ happening, she wouldn't give it up for anything.

They walked in silence, but again it was a silence filled with unspoken words and expressive actions, like when Ron drew his hand out of his pocket to scratch his cheek, and just happened to touch her shoulder in the process, or when she turned to look at Hagrid's hut and stole a glance at Ron's mouth when turning back, blushing at the mere thought of what had actually happened last night.

Upon entering the castle, they were greeted by Fred, George and Lee, who were very eager to show a new, food-related addition to the Weasley's Wizard Wheezes, and Ron and Harry were pulled away towards the Great Hall for a demonstration. But before they disappeared, Ron looked over at Hermione, and when his blue eyes locked with hers, conveying more than he ever could have done with words, it was all she could do not to grab his arm and drag him off to a private place where they could have even more wordless conversations.

She blushed to herself at this thought, but couldn't help smiling as the boys disappeared into the Great Hall. As new and confusing and positively terrifying as all this was, it was also incredibly, astoundingly wonderful, enough so to make her heart weak with emotion. 

But most importantly it was _real. _It wasn't a dream, it wasn't one of her silly, frustrating fantasies; it was perfectly true, nothing more and nothing less than real life.

And that notion was something she wouldn't trade for anything in the world.

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~The End~

A/N: Wow! I can't believe I'm actually finished! This story has been hanging over my head for more than a year, nagging at me and saying "Finish me! Finish me!" and now I actually _have_. Unbelievable. Anyway, those who've made it this far, thanks for reading, I hope you've enjoyed it. Please leave a review and let me know what you thought of this; criticism – positive as well as negative – is what drives me to write more. 


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